Chapter 59.95: For the Eternally Young and Easily Riled

I still intend to write more on Kurt Vonnegut, but in the meantime I'll let this opinion piece in the New York Times whet your whistle.

He says not only what no one is saying, but also what — as a mild young person — you know it is forbidden to say. No one nourishes the skepticism of the young like Vonnegut.

And this remembrance by Harvey Wasserman also conveys some wonderful insights to the writer, including this very personal memory:

He and I met [at a speech in Columbus, Ohio] many years ago. ... Not knowing me from Adam, he was gracious enough to give me his home address.

Out of the blue, I sent him a book-length poem about the passing of my parents. I was shocked when he called me on the phone about it. I asked for his help in finding a publisher. He said to publish it on my own, and gave me advice on how to do it, along with a blurb for the cover.

From then on we talked by phone. His conversation was always friendly, funny, insightful. When last I asked him how he was, he replied: "Too fucking old!"

Chapter 59.9: God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut

Toward the end of last night's local news, it was mentioned that Kurt Vonnegut has died. Long one of my favorite writers, Vonnegut is an American classic. I've not read everything he's written, but I loved Cat's Cradle and the stories from Welcome to the Monkey House. Many of his works seem locked in the Cold War era in which they were written, but I believe a clever screenplay writer could adapt them to today's audience -- especially today's.

In fact, I believe today's audience needs to read Kurt Vonnegut to develop a better sense of perspective about the world in which we're living. I intend to expand upon that in a follow-up post, either here or on The Elephant's Bookshelf, where one of my first book reviews was about the Monkey House.

Here in New York, the sky is crying. So it goes.

Ad astra, Kurt.